


In Exchange For Your Time

by hollowbirds (torturousthings)



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Blood, Fluff, Homophobia, Kinda?, M/M, Questioning, Ryden, also patrick as a badass substitute teacher, also this is an actual panic show in columbus, and then ?? wow they're in the same school but never noticed each other, blue josh, idk man, in which josh elbows tyler in the face during a panic concert, joshler - Freeform, two awkward tweens, we got a josh that's feeling guilty, yo this is my first shot at writing joshler god knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torturousthings/pseuds/hollowbirds
Summary: It's Tyler's first ever show. Every show should be celebrated by an elbow in the face from a stranger, right?a tale of music, t-shirts and light blue hair.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stray_dog_sick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stray_dog_sick/gifts).



He glanced at the mirror before leaving the bathroom hurriedly. His hair was doing anything but what he wanted it to and he had horribly obvious rings under his eyes from the little sleep he’d been getting. There was no time for any more getting ready; it was already half past four, and on the ticket was printed, in bold black ink: DOORS OPEN: 6:00 PM.

Tyler ran a nervous hand through his hair. There was no need to be anxious, but he couldn’t help the knot in his stomach.

 _It’s just other teenagers_ , he tried to convince himself as he laced his shoes up. _I_ _t’s fine._

Truth was, he hated that he was going alone. This was his first ever concert, and he hadn’t been able to find anyone willing to go with him. Panic at the Disco was quite big already, but no one from his school seemed to know them, and the few who did didn’t exactly have the best opinions to give.

“I heard two of them are faggots,” a girl in his homeroom had said, grimacing as if there’d been rotten eggs right under her nose instead of a US history notebook. Tyler couldn’t care less; his idols’ sexualities really wasn’t his business. He hadn’t told these rumours to his parents, though: God knows whether they would still let him go if they knew that the band their son wanted to see had two possibly homosexual members. Convincing them to let him go to a show at all had been tough enough; Tyler wasn’t going to take a chance.

Shouldering his backpack, he slammed the front door and took a deep breath. At least he’d be on time.

 

***

The venue was already packed by the time Tyler got there; boys and girls that looked his age were gathered in small groups, clumsily forming something that looked like a line. He looked down at his phone as he got in line behind three girls that were chatting excitedly about the band members. Quarter past five. It was getting slightly colder, and Tyler was glad that he’d worn a jacket over his t-shirt. He noticed that a bunch of people were wearing shirts sporting Panic’s band name; he didn’t own any merch himself, but surely that could be changed tonight.

 

“I really hope we’ll be on Ryan’s side,” one of the girls in front of him said. She had dyed red hair that fell over one of her eyes and a t-shirt that displayed one of the member’s face. Tyler was fairly sure that was Ryan. He had never been good with names, but he had to admit that Ryan —if it _wa_ s Ryan— was cute. Tyler cursed himself silently. God forbid he thought of Ryan that way. God forbid he thought of _any_ boy that way. It wasn’t because half of Panic was maybe homosexual that he would become so too. Music didn’t corrupt. Music had opened his eyes.  

 

“Bet ya anything Jon’s barefoot again,” one of her friends replied as a sudden wave of people rushed towards the entrance. Tyler glanced down at his phone again. It was only twenty past five. Did venues lie about the time they opened doors just to make sure people showed up to see all the good spots were taken? If so, Tyler was lucky. 

 

It turned out to be a false alarm, just a venue worker coming out to smoke a cigarette. Some people further down the line were scream-singing I Write Sins, though it sounded nothing like the song. That one had never been Tyler’s favourite; he preferred the overall sound of the second album compared to the first. The string arrangements and the hazy lyrics made him forget where he was sometimes, in his small town in Ohio. It made him dream of bigger things, like he could achieve more than going to a mediocre college and graduating to go work at a job he hates. Like he could _live_. He stuffed his earphones in his ears and _When The Day Met The Night_ started playing. He particularly loved this one. There were theories that he’d read online in which people thought Ryan had written this song for Brendon, the lead vocalist. Maybe it had been; Tyler gave them the benefit of the doubt. He just really liked the way this song sounded. He hoped they’d play it.  

***

 

Tyler hadn’t imagined that being between so many sweaty strangers would be so comfortable. It was already about halfway through the set —Tyler didn’t exactly keep track of the time, but Brendon’s shirt looked about three-quarters soaked through with sweat— and he felt at home. Everyone around him was yelling along to Time To Dance, and his foot had only been stepped on twice. Two girls next to him were holding each other and crying while screaming the lyrics at the stage. There was a taller guy in front of him and more screaming girls on his left. Tyler hadn’t paid much attention to them, though: his eyes were focused on the stage, going from Brendon to Ryan, to Jon and Spencer, who looked like he was having the time of his life behind the drums. 

 

Suddenly, an elbow coming out of nowhere appeared in front of Tyler at a dangerous speed and crashed into his face before he could react. A sickening crunch indicated that this wasn’t good, and a sharp pain shot through his nose. Tyler’s hands flew to his face and came away stained with dark red. 

 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” the apparent owner of the elbow said. It was the guy in front of Tyler, who was way too into the music, flailing his arms to the rhythm. Or, rather, had been, because now his face was plastered with concern. 

 

“It’s fine,” Tyler muttered, one hand still holding his nose as the other desperately searched his jean pockets in hope of finding a tissue. There were none. He looked behind him; the exit door seemed so far away, with nearly a thousand people between them. 

 

“Oh my God, is it broken?” The other guy said, apparently not bothered by the blood. Tyler shook his head. No, it wasn’t broken. It was just bleeding. A lot. 

 

“Here, come with me,” the other boy said urgently, snatching Tyler’s wrist and pulling him to the side of the crowd, where people were less stuck together. He pushed through a door that Tyler hadn’t noticed at first. 

 

“There’s a bathroom this way,” he added, and Tyler had no choice but to follow. Blood was dripping onto his white t-shirt. Hopefully his parents wouldn’t think that the concert had involved some kind of sacrifice. 

 

After taking a number of small corridors, they reached a tiny bathroom. Tyler noticed that the other guy had his hair dyed a light blue that he hadn’t seen in the dimness of the other room; Light-Blue went to get a handful of toilet paper and came back to press it to Tyler’s nose before Tyler could react. 

 

“Thanks,” he managed through the lump of toilet paper that was now pressed against his face. He sounded like a duck. A very bloody, miserable duck. Light-Blue looked both concerned and apologetic. He also looked like he belonged in a metal concert more than a pop-punk one like Panic’s. He had a nose ring, for God’s sake. 

 

“I’m so sorry, I—” he stammered, clearly trying to find his words.

 

“I’ll be fine,” Tyler said. “Go back to the show.” He leaned against a sink and took the paper away from his face. It was already soaked through. The other boy nodded and made his way out of the bathroom, muttering more apologies that Tyler could barely hear. The door slammed after him, and Tyler let out a breath. Of course this had to happen. He turned around and dumped the blood-soaked toilet paper into the trash can. He hoped no one would see it. Maybe he’d be convicted of attempted murder. He’d never seen that much blood, let alone realised that much could flow from his nose. He leaned forward towards the sink and attempted to splash some water on his face. He caught a glimpse of himself from the bathroom mirror. He looked like a mess. 

 

The door opened and Tyler turned around quickly, as if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. It was Light-Blue again. 

 

“I can’t go back,” he said. “I feel too bad. Do you want to go home? I’ll get you home.” 

 

Tyler didn’t understand why this stranger was trying this hard to help him. Accidents happened, and he didn’t blame him. The thought of going home was nice, though. His parents would be in bed by now anyway, so he wouldn’t have to explain this nose-situation until tomorrow morning. He nodded. The other boy’s shoulders relaxed, and he grinned. His grin scrunched up his whole face in a way that Tyler hadn’t thought possible. It made him look so much younger, and Tyler’s stomach was suddenly filled with warmth. He felt dizzy all of a sudden. It was probably because of all the blood he’d lost. 

 

“Yeah,” he said. “That’d be cool.” Blood was trickling down his nose again, and he reached for the paper towels, but Light-Blue was faster than him. 

 

“Thanks.” Tyler didn’t know whether he was thanking him for the ride home or the paper towels. 

 

The other boy waved his hand as if to say it was no big deal, the smile still on his face. Tyler’s head felt light. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to get his nose smashed after all. 

 

“I’m Josh,” the other boy said, and Tyler smiled at him from beneath the paper towels. 

 

“Tyler,” he said, and Josh pushed the bathroom door open. 

 

“Let’s get you home, then, Tyler.”

 

“Yeah, let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

When Tyler went back to school on Monday, his nose almost looked like nothing had happened to it; no bone had turned out broken, just as he’d thought. It was just a little bit red. Oddly enough, his parents hadn’t said anything about the blood on his shirt or asked about whether the show was good. It almost seemed like they didn’t care. _Definitely for the best_ , Tyler thought as he walked to his first class, which was History.  _Heaven knows what I would've told them if they'd asked me how I got back._

 

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but the classroom looked just like it had every day since the beginning of term. He suppressed a sigh of relief as he sat down in his usual seat. It wasn’t because a boy had driven him home on a Saturday that there was going to be a banner strung up in the middle of the class saying **_TYLER’S A FAG!_**

 

He wasn’t. Josh was just exceptionally friendly, despite his unnaturally coloured hair and his nose piercing. Tyler didn’t know anyone else with a piercing, and the thought of it was a bit like going on a rollercoaster for the first time: scary, but exciting. 

 

The classroom became gradually louder as more and more people arrived, and Tyler noticed that their teacher, Mrs Jasper, hadn’t arrived yet. Mrs Jasper was a middle aged woman that had a tendency to cough between every two words she uttered; that made understanding her lessons a slight challenge, especially since she had the power to make the most interesting facts sound about as boring as watching a snail race. 

 

“Do you think she’s sick?” 

 

He turned to where the question had come from. It was his neighbour, a thin, freckled girl by the name of Ashley who had spoken, the hope of a free period clear in her tone. She had light brown hair down to her waist and was the only more-or-less acceptable person in Tyler’s class. He felt like she would’ve agreed to come with him to the show, but he didn’t want her to get any ideas by asking her. Besides, they barely knew each other. 

 

 

“I don’t know,” Tyler said, taking a notebook out of his backpack anyway. “Maybe she’s just _really_ late,” he added, though everyone knew that Mrs Jasper was never late. Ashley nodded, clearly not convinced. As Tyler was about to ask her whether she knew Panic at the Disco, someone stumbled into the classroom. 

 

It was a short, bespectacled man with a pile of books and papers held close to his chest in an effort to keep them from falling. One notebook seemed dangerously close from doing just that, but thankfully he reached the teacher’s desk before it happened. He readjusted his glasses, which had slid halfway down his nose, after setting his stack of books down. He looked at the classroom, taking in the clusters of students that clearly believed that this class had turned from a History one to a Gossip one. He had short, straw-coloured hair and looked like he was extremely uncomfortable being in front of a room full of noisy teens. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, Tyler thought. 

 

The man cleared his throat, seemingly in an attempt to get the class’ attention. It did not work, half the students not having even realised that there was a new presence. Tyler was torn between wanting to laugh at him and feeling bad for him. He opted for the latter, but didn't stand up to help: there was no need for him to get involved in a possible imminent student riot.

 

Suddenly, the man slammed his hand down onto the desk, making enough noise at once so that everyone turned to stare at him. For a split second, he seemed both incredulous that it had worked and slightly regretful, because now all eyes were on him. He straightened himself and cleared his throat once again.

 

“Everyone, please go back to your seats,” he said, taking advantage of the shocked silence that had not yet faded. His voice wasn’t deep, but somehow had enough authority to make everyone obey. 

 

Once the racket of chairs being pulled back had stopped, he crossed his arms, which made him look slightly comical. Tyler was sure Mrs Jasper was taller than him. 

 

“I’m your substitute teacher for today,” he went on. “Mrs Jasper is, uh, indisposed, and I will be taking her class today.” 

 

“She got diarrhea or something?” Some guy in the back row yelled, and the man shifted his gaze to him as half of the class laughed at the remark. Tyler rolled his eyes. This was one of the reasons why he couldn’t _wait_ to get out of this school. The guy who had spoken, Shane, was leaning back on his chair, a smug look on his face. 

 

 _Congratulations, Shane_ , Tyler thought. _Fifty points to Idiocy House._  

 

“Her husband died last night, if you wanted to know,” the substitute teacher’s voice cut through the laughter, which faded as people took in his words. “Now please show some respect to your teachers, Mr— Mr?” He looked expectantly at Shane, whose smile of satisfaction had disappeared from his face. 

 

“Morris, sir. Shane Morris.” Shane looked uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know why he was answering this man’s question respectfully. Tyler didn’t think that the word respect existed in Shane’s dictionary. 

 

“Well, Mr Morris,” the man went on, “I expect you to be respectful of your teachers from now on.”

 

Before Shane could reply, he turned to the black board, picked up a chalk and started writing something in the middle of the board. When he was done, the word _Stumph_ was stretching from one end to the other. Tyler couldn't help but notice that the teacher’s handwriting looked very much like a teenage boy’s. 

 

“You can call me Mr Stumph,” he said, not pronouncing the _h_ at the end. “I know that a few of you will be tempted to pronounce it just the way it’s written,” —he gestured at the white _h_ on the board— “but let me just remind you that Stump actually sounds a lot funnier than Stumf. At least it means something, you know?” 

 

Tyler smiled. This was going to be an interesting class. 

 

***

 

 

Mr Stumph —Tyler had to remind himself to read it S-T-U-M-P at all times— turned out to be one of the best teachers Tyler had ever had, even though they’d only had one period together. He taught history as if it was a movie, with small anecdotes that managed to make the whole class laugh, and Tyler found himself hoping that Mrs Jasper wouldn’t come back. He’d certainly score higher on his finals if Mr Stumph stayed. 

 

Walking towards his English class, after lunch period, Tyler spotted a head of light blue hair that he could only remember too well a few people ahead of him. 

 

No. It couldn’t be, right? There was no way it could be him. 

 

“Josh!” He called out before even realising he had. The blue hair turned around, and a few seconds later they were facing each other again. Josh was frowning, as if he didn’t believe Tyler was in front of him. He had taken his nose ring out; they were probably not allowed in school, though there was no way Tyler would know about that. 

 

“Tyler?” He sounded as incredulous as he looked. “Since when are you in this hellhole?” 

 

Tyler chuckled and shrugged. 

 

“Forever, man. At least it feels like forever. I had no idea you were here too!” Josh shook his head and let out a small laugh. 

 

“That’s insane, dude.”

 

The second bell rang and Josh looked panicked all of a sudden. “Crap, I gotta run,” he said, ruffling his own hair, which stuck out at wild angles. “Got Chem.” 

 

Tyler nodded. He didn’t know which Chemistry teacher Josh had, but all of them were horrible. He hoped Josh wouldn’t be late.

 

“I’ll catch you after school!” Josh called as he disappeared at a corner. Tyler waved his hand in agreement, and went into his classroom, his stomach slightly knotted and his head feeling a bit light. 

 

Mr Stumph, and then Josh. He smiled to himself. 

 

Today was a good day.


	3. Chapter 3

After last period, Tyler had to tell his hands to stop fidgeting and his feet to take smaller steps because there was no reason for him to hurry.

 

And then, he remembered, and contemplated the fact that his body had better memory than his brain. What kind of human was he? He let his feet carry him to the main doors of the building and exited. 

 

It wasn’t difficult to spot Josh: his light blue hair contrasted even with the dull grey concrete of the ground. He was sitting on what looked like a stack of bricks. Why there was a stack of bricks in the middle of a high school parking lot, Tyler didn’t know; maybe some people in shop had decided to try out new materials, or maybe it was some art project from a bunch of freshmen. Either way, Josh didn't seem very comfortable on it, but still smiled and waved as Tyler made his way to him. 

 

“Hey,” Tyler said, halting in front of the pile of bricks as Josh stood up, rubbing his butt. He looked tired.

 

“Man, bricks really aren't made to be sat on,” he said, and Tyler snorted. 

 

“You do seem to have a tendency to make unconventional choices in life,” he mused, eyeing Josh’s hair, and Josh chuckled. 

 

“Yeah, I actually dyed it right before the show,” he said, pulling on it self-consciously. “Parents were horrified.” 

 

Tyler had been wondering how it’d been possible for him _not_ to spot the blue in the midst of browns and blondes, but now he knew. He nodded, chuckling. They started towards the only street that bordered the school; it was a small town after all, and they’d have to walk together for at least ten minutes. At least. Tyler had no idea where Josh lived. 

 

“I like it,” he said quietly before he’d even realised he had, and Josh smiled slightly but didn’t say anything. Idiot, idiot. Why had he said that? Tyler stuck his hands in his pockets as if that would take back what he’d just said. Hopefully his face wasn’t flushed. 

 

 

“Speaking of the show, did you go back after?” There was no way he’d let the conversation end with a clumsy compliment. Maybe Josh knew the venue staff and managed to sneak his way back in. He looked like he’d be the kind of guy to do that, but he shook his head and made a noise indicating that he hadn’t.

 

“Too tired.” 

 

They kept walking in silence after that, Tyler desperately trying to find something to say to fill the silence. Perhaps Panic was the best thing to start with, since they did meet thanks to them after all, but Josh seemed to be thinking the exact same thing a step ahead of him, because he spoke first.

 

“What’s your favourite Panic song?” 

 

“ _When The Day Met The Night_ ,” Tyler blurted out. It really was. Josh nodded and smiled, and somehow this approval made Tyler feel a bit better. Still awkward, though. 

 

“You?” 

 

Tyler wondered which song Josh would prefer. His appearance screamed _But It’s Better If You Do_ but the way he spoke was definitely leaning more towards _Mad As Rabbits._

  

“ _Build God, Then We’ll Talk_.” 

 

When Tyler looked at him, grinning, his lips curved into a small smile and he shrugged. “I just really like The Sound Of Music.” 

 

There was a thin silver chain around Josh’s neck, and from it hung something that looked like a flying saucer. He was tugging at it absent-mindedly, the other hand in his jacket pocket. 

 

_Space nerd,_ Tyler thought. 

 

“This is me,” he said a few minutes later as they approached his house. Something nagged at Tyler. He didn’t want to go home. Who knew when he’d be able to walk back with Josh again; the blue-haired boy looked slightly uncomfortable, as if something was bothering him. Tyler didn’t know whether they were supposed to shake hands or bump fists or anything, really. 

 

“Well, bye,” Josh let out eventually, turning to resume walking. 

 

“Bye.” 

 

Tyler went towards his own house, the familiar white facade for once an unwelcome view. He didn’t know whether Josh had moved or not, and he didn’t want to turn to look. 

 

“Hey,” Josh’s voice said from behind him, as if he’d suddenly remembered something. “I have a Panic shirt that’s a bit small for me at home, d’you want me to go and get it?”

 

Tyler broke into a grin, which was soon reflected on Josh’s face, his eyes crinkling up. 

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that would be sick. Thanks, Josh.” 

 

“I’ll be back in about ten, alright?” 

 

“Alright,” Tyler said, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew he wouldn’t be able to accept a gift from Josh without giving him anything in return, and he already had an idea as to what Josh would like. 

 

As soon as the other boy disappeared around the corner, Tyler started as fast as possible towards his house. When he reached it, he swung open the front door, which banged against the wall behind it indignantly. Not bothering to take off his shoes or coat, Tyler dashed up the stairs and into his room. It was a mess, and God knew where the thing he was looking for was. Throwing his wardrobe open, he grabbed the pile of clothing residing inside it. His mother would have a heart attack if she saw this. 

 

After five minutes of intense searching and throwing clothes around, Tyler finally found the t-shirt he wanted. It was clean, and even had a crease, showing where it’d always stayed folded. Tyler had never worn it. His mother had bought it too big, so it ended up under a pile of other tees that were, for one reason or another, unwearable. There’d been a bright yellow Mickey Mouse one on top of it. Tyler reflected upon whether he’d be able to burn that one inconspicuously. Just then, the doorbell rang, startling him. _Josh must live close by to have gotten back so quickly,_ he thought. Hastily, he threw the t-shirt on the bed and rounded it to go stuff all the other articles of clothing back into the wardrobe. 

 

_It’ll be hell to find anything in here later,_ Tyler thought as he forced the doors closed. Hopefully they wouldn’t burst. 

 

“Just a sec!” he yelled, rushing down the stairs four at a time, the black tee still discarded on his bed. Breathless, he opened the front door to see Josh behind it, holding at least four t-shirts under his arm. He grinned. 

 

“I brought all of them,” he explained, stepping through the door, “so you can choose.” 

 

“Thanks,” Tyler said, not really knowing what to add. Josh looked funny with the multicoloured fabric in his arms, contrasting with his shock of blue hair. “Let’s not stay here, though,” he added. “It’ll be easier to spread them out on my bed.” 

 

Josh cast a glance at him and nodded, the grin now reduced to a small smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s do that.” 

 

———

 

“I really like this one,” Tyler confessed, looking at his reflection in the mirror. The shirt was black and had a yellow design right over the chest area. It was a close fit for Tyler; meaning definitely a size too small for Josh. Tyler wondered why the hell Josh had even bought a shirt like that. 

 

“It’s yours, then,” Josh said, smiling at the other boy through the mirror. “My mum’ll be happy. Says I have too many t-shirts.” He shrugged, and Tyler’s heart sank. He glanced at the black t-shirt still on his bed. Surely that meant that Josh wouldn’t want that one, then. 

 

“Oh,” he said. “I wanted to give you this” —he walked to the bed and picked the t-shirt up— “in return, but I guess you don’t want it.” He unfolded the shirt, showing Josh the design decorating the front. It was a picture of a flying saucer over a bunch of trees above bold, white letters spelling out “I WANT TO BELIEVE”. Tyler wasn’t sure what it meant, but Josh’s eyes lit up and a big smile started spreading on his face. 

 

“I didn’t know you liked the X-Files!” 

 

“I don’t, I just—“ 

 

But, before Tyler had managed to stutter out that his mum had bought the shirt for him and that neither of them had any clue of what it meant, Josh had rushed towards him and they were now hugging. 

 

“Thank you so much,” Josh breathed. He smelled like sunshine and pine trees. Who knew someone with his hair dyed bright blue would have this kind of smell. “It’s the best thing ever.” 

 

Tyler smiled. 


End file.
